


Take Another Breath

by Kermits_Soft_Kitty



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: AU, COG!AU, I refuse to acknowledge Max's death okay, M/M, Magic, Poorly written, momentary character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 17:33:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5834500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kermits_Soft_Kitty/pseuds/Kermits_Soft_Kitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post COG!AU</p><p>There are some things that are just sick, and Magnus decides that Max Lightwood's death is one of them. He isn't quite sure what the outcome will be for him, but he's willing to try and bring the kid back to life if it means that at least one good soul will survive this shit-storm. </p><p>(In which Magnus has a big heart, attempts the impossible and there are cute Magnus & Max moments :))</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Another Breath

**Author's Note:**

> So I refuse to admit Max is dead and this is the result. I also liked where things ended after City of Glass, so let us presume that Magnus was there and then they went and saved Jocelyn, Jace killed Sebastian for good and Valentine got his shit dinner served justly, as it was in the book :) Good? Good. 
> 
> I might do Alec's reaction? I'm not sure. This is a hard fandom to write for, especially for a character that has, basically no lines really. Max has less lines than I do lipsticks. 
> 
> Much love to people who read this. Any constructive criticism is loved! Not beta'd either, so sorry for stupid errors like apostrophe positioning!

 

The Accords Hall was silent when Magnus re-entered. A solemn silence had fallen over the assembled Shadowhunters and Downworlders. Looking towards the raised marble dais, Magnus could see why. It was like something from those morose mundane films Ragnor liked to watch when he was down; a family built on being tough and calm in the face of adversity, curled around the frail, dead body of their youngest, stolen vainly in the attempt to bring down Valentine.

Magnus could see that most people were struggling to hold back tears. Seasoned Shadowhunters, it seemed, were not immune to the agony of seeing a dead, innocent child wrapped up in the embrace of their devastated family. Magnus had always had a reasonably optimistic outlook on life - one had to when one was immortal, of course - but the heart-wrenching sobs tearing themselves from his beloved’s chest was enough to make Magnus question why the world was so unjust and cruel sometimes. So many innocent lives had been lost whilst evil persevered. 

Magnus decided that it was time the sands were changed. 

He had always cut an impressive figure for most of his life - his most outlandish probably being his punk phase - but brushing through the otherwise still congregation silently mourning for the loss of Max Lightwood caught everyone’s attention, unwilling or not. His tailcoats surged out behind him as he approached the dais, footsteps echoing in the cavernous room. 

The Lightwoods all looked up in unison, eyes red and faces pale, stark black hair and runes obvious against the pallor of their flesh. Maryse met his eyes, something elder Shadowhunters – especially those who had been in the Circle – didn’t often do. They knew what he had seen them do and they knew what he was capable of. Magnus crouched down in front of them, setting a hand next to Max's cold, lifeless one that had dropped down onto the next step. 

“I can try.” Magnus said softly. Robert barked out a cruel laugh.

“He’s _dead_ warlock.” he spat, eyes cold and hard. “What more could your kind do to him?”

Magnus raised cool eyes up to the patriarch of the family. “I understand you’re grieving, Robert, but I and Morgenstern are two entirely different people. First and foremost, I have compassion for those I love,” his eyes shifted towards Alec. “and I also have the remarkable ability to put up with Shadowhunters who believe that warlocks are only their demon father and are not in touch with their human mother.”

He maintained Robert's gaze for a little while before giving him a sorrowful smile as he turned to Maryse, knowing she may have more reason. “I can try.” He pleaded. “Surely you wouldn’t wish to pass up this opportunity.”

Maryse considered him carefully before nodding. She gently set Max’s limp, lifeless body on the marble floor before pulling her husband away. Isabelle followed, curling into Jace’s trembling arms. Alec stayed where he was, collapsed on the ground like a puppet that had had its strings cut. Magnus crouched down next to him.

“Darling, I can’t work unless you’re out of the way.”

“If I had been there.” Alec whispered, tears streaking his pale face, “If I had been there I could have saved him ... I could have –“

Magnus reached forwards to pull him into an embrace, closing his eyes as Alec shuddered against him, sobs strangled. Magnus rocked them back and forth gently. 

“It’s okay. I’m going to do all I can. I promise.” Magnus whispered, pulling back and cradling Alec’s face in his hands. “I _promise_.”

Alec nodded and let Isabelle tug him away. They didn’t go too far, understandably, and Magnus realised that having them so close would be useful.

 

Bringing a soul back from the dead was a task usually left to a necromancer. It was dangerous for anyone to attempt it; most often than not, both souls ended up in Purgatory as opposed to the initial. 

Max had been dead for about an hour, so Magnus’s window of opportunity was fading fast. In two hours it would be nigh on impossible to retrieve it.

He knelt at Max’s head, lifting it onto his lap gently. A trail of blood had dried from the corner of his mouth and absently, Magnus magicked it away. He then cracked his fingers, snapping away his rings, and cupped Max’s face with only the ten points of his fingertips touching his skin.

 

Then, he closed his eyes and thought about the love the Lightwoods had for their little Max; the way Isabelle would ruffle his hair whenever he walked through a room she was in; the way Jace called him ‘squirt’ despite Max’s vociferous protests about the nickname; the way Alec bought comics from the mundane store seven blocks away from the Institute voluntarily because, as Alec had put it, he ‘loved the smile Max gave him when he presented him with a new arc to read’.

He thought of the way Robert had beamed without preamble at Magnus when he showed Max off at the once annual Shadowhunter-Downworlder meeting; the way Maryse had gently cradled him to her chest, murmuring love in his tiny ears.

He felt a sharp tug at his chest and breathed through it, turning his memories to personal ones. He traced his memories back to beloveds like Etta and Imasu, Axel and Will, and even that sticky, tender part of his heart that was purely for Camille. He thought of how happy and exhilarated he’d felt when in Peru with Catarina and Ragnor that one time, of the joy of flying through the air drunkenly like some wild thing.

He thought of the love he held for Raphael and Clary; distant affection that comes with watching children both stop and continue to grow in the same breath. He remembered the faces of Will and Jem when the parabatai were together; of when they both saw Tessa; of the adoration in Edmund’s face when he bumped into him following his exile of the Shadowhunter world to be with the girl he loved the most.

Magnus thought even of how his mum and dad had loved him once. Of how it had felt to be cradled close and kissed on the forehead.

He felt sweat roll down his temple as his fingers shook violently, strained where they touched Max’s forehead. A sick feeling had risen in his gullet but he pushed through it, desperately trying to search through the mess of energy that was preventing him from reaching Max’s pure soul lingering just above the smoky barrier of Purgatory.

His mind turned to Alec; of his kisses and gentleness and the way he smiled whenever Magnus kissed him on the cheek or behind the ear. He thought of how irrevocably in love he was with the Shadowhunter and how, maybe one day, it would be nice to become mortal if it meant living the rest of his days with Alec and Alec alone.

He felt his blood pound at his temples as he reached out, grappling with Max’s soul as it tried to slip from his grip. He clenched his teeth, and with one last _pull_ , tugged it back down. The rush of energy and blood that pressed into his brain had him swaying on the spot as he manoeuvred his hands down, careful to cradle Max’s fragile soul with the utmost care.

He opened his eyes to gaze at the smoky mess in his palm, chest heaving with exhaustion. Turning his hand, he held it over Max’s chest, where his heart lay, and let it sink back into its owner. Max’s chest raised in a shaking, heaving gasp, and with what little strength Magnus had left in him, he turned the boy over in his lap and cupped the back of his skull to repair the dent and halt any old internal wounds.

Isabelle was the first to run over, her strangled scream shrill in the Accords Hall. Max’s eyes were blinking open from behind his glasses drowsily, and the look on his face as his big sister swept him up in a hug made a smile touch his lips. The rest of his family were quick to follow, and this time the tears were joyful.

Magnus glanced up to meet Alec’s thankful eyes for a matter of seconds before a sudden darkness rushed up and began to swallow his vision. The last thing he remembered was the distressed blue of his beloved’s beautiful eyes and then the world went dark.

\--

The world was white and brown when Magnus opened his eyes again. It took a little while to re-orientate himself, but eventually he became aware that he was in the Alicante infirmary. The vaulted ceiling, supported by beams carved with runes and gargoyles, had become a sight Magnus became accustomed to during The Uprising. He, Catarina, Tessa and Ragnor had been brought in as healers. Although 'brought in' was a bit of a generous term on everyone but Ragnor's part. They'd been pretty loathe to involve themselves so deeply, but eventually Catarina had pointed out that people were dying, so Magnus relented. He didn't like people dying on his conscience. It didn't make for fun parties later on. 

He blinked lazily, taking in his surroundings. The bed he lay upon was soft but slightly damp, as though the sheets had just been washed. There was the distant noise of what he presumed were Shadowhunters going about their daily business in the halls. The smell of ozone lingered in the air, a sure telltale that Ragnor had been here recently the little green bastard. Magnus would have words with him later. 

 

He turned his head and was surprised to find a small head of hair on the side of the mattress. It undoubtedly belonged to young Max Lightwood, and Magnus couldn’t help but reach out to run his fingers through the wild mess.

Max awoke instantly at the touch, raising his head from his folded arms to gaze up at Magnus. His glasses were askew, the frame imprinted in his skin, eyes sleepy behind the glass.

“You’re awake.” Max said simply. Magnus twitched an eyebrow up and quirked his mouth.

“I am. And why are you sleeping here instead of a bed, biscuit?” he asked fondly. It seemed the younger the Lightwood, the more adorable and bearable they were.

Unless you were Alec. Max was cute, but he wasn’t his big brother.

“Because I wanted to be here when you woke up.” Max said, sounding as though he was in awe of Magnus, eyes moving up and down his body. “I can’t believe you did that for me. I was dead.”

“You were.” Magnus said, shifting in the bed and wincing. He pushed himself up, shifting the pillow to the small of his back. He let out a weary exhalation at how exhausted he was after such a simple action. When he turned his head, Max was still looking at him.

“Miss Catarina said it’s amazing you’re still alive.” Max said quietly. “Miss Tessa too. You've been asleep for two weeks.”

“It was worth it.” Magnus replied, turning fully to look at Max. Max met his gaze dead on, unflinching.

 

Then he moved, pulling his skinny body onto the bed and pushing himself into Magnus’s arms, careful but clingy.

“What’s this about then?” Magnus asked with a smile, leaning back so Max could rest his full weight on Magnus’s chest. Max took in an unsteady breath.

“I just can’t believe anyone would ever do that for me.” Max admitted a little tearfully. Magnus closed his eyes at the admission and let out a little sigh.

“There are a lot of reasons I did it.” Magnus said quietly, squeezing Max gently in his arms. “I did it for your mum and dad, for the morale of the Shadowhunters, for your siblings because I couldn’t bear their puppy dog eyes -”

Max laughed. “Jace has the worst puppy face.”

Magnus grinned, swaying them from side-to-side gently. “– but I mainly did it because of how unjust it was. You didn’t deserve it. You hadn’t had any part in this war and yet you had been one of the first casualties. You had – and now still have – so much life ahead of you. The least I could do was try to bring it back for you. And, I suppose I like you.”

Max tilted his head back. “Really?”

Magnus raised an eyebrow. “I don’t just let _anyone_ see me without make-up on, biscuit.”  He said playfully. Max laughed, pressing his face into Magnus’s chest and wrapping his arms tightly around the warlock.

“Thank you.” Max said. Magnus smiled and closed his eyes.

“It was my genuine pleasure.”

\--

  _End_


End file.
